


The Alligators Are Here (They're Just Under The Water)

by ijg



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Kissing, Angry Kissing Against A Sky Blue ‘69 Chevy Hits Different, Flirting, Hannibal Is Big Surprised, Hannibal is going to Figure It Out, Hannibal knows about Freddie, He definitely went in the mental rolodex, M/M, Mention of drug-use, Murder, Not gonna lie the murder part is not a mystery and not important, Pre-Mizumono, Season 2, So much flirting, Some idiot tries to intimidate Hannibal, The Team in Louisiana, What can I say I know my priorities and they are Hannibal and Will getting it on, Will Is Big Sexy, Will has a secret, alternating pov every chapter, fix-it?, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijg/pseuds/ijg
Summary: Set in Season 2: When a string of murders bring the team to Louisiana, Will is hiding a home-grown secret that Hannibal is determined to figure out. There will be angst, there will be smut, and there will probably be a happy ending because our boys DESERVE IT. (Tags to be updated along with each chapter to avoid spoilers.)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 62
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, and thanks for giving this a chance! I've had this idea in my head for awhile now, and if things go the way I'm hoping this will be my first multi-chapter fic that I share! It's going to be a fun ride with lots of surprises, so stick around!  
> The title is inspired by a Lady Lamb song, You Are The Apple, which I highly recommend listening to  
> As always, I appreciate your kudos and comments immensely. Feel free to join me on twitter @infinityjewel_ where I am perpetually obsessing over Will Graham.

Louisiana was _hot._

Not that Hannibal was opposed to warmer environments. He enjoyed the cool, dry breeze of ocean-side cities. He even appreciated the sticky heat of the Amazon which he had visited on a rather enlightening Ayahuasca tour in his… younger years.

But this, this was heat that dripped like candle-wax: oppressive, melting, smothering. And Hannibal had not packed accordingly.

He sat in the small lobby of the local police station, charcoal slacks searing against his legs, white dress shirt unbuttoned as low on his sweat-shiny clavicle as could be appropriate, vest and jacket long discarded.

They had been here for almost a week, flown in early Monday morning to look at the recent string of murders, and now it was Friday. The temperatures had slowly sky rocketed into the upper 90s, and the team had been looking at water-logged, sunburnt corpses for days. Even strolls through dense trees laden with Spanish moss were unbearably hot and brought no relief.

Hannibal felt particularly on edge today, what was no doubt the hottest day so far, because of his increasingly undressed state. Since he and Will’s… game had taken more devious twists as of late, he felt the need to fortify his person suit more than ever.

Luckily, Will was out on the boats with some of the local officers, combing the bayou for the next body. So far four had shown up – three before the FBI got involved, one more since their arrival. Hannibal was bored with the case already, as were the rest of the team that believed Will’s profile. It was a pathetic younger man, targeting young women in some misguided childhood trauma related anger, strangling and beating them, then dumping their bodies in the water. The profile was complete - the problem was finding the boy. Will was convinced he was a minor, and the local police were reluctant to start questioning kids. It was push and pull at this point, a waiting game of egos until Jack’s finally, inevitably, won out.

“Listen, I’ve got Purnell flying in Monday to start pulling kids in herself. If you would just agree to start with the highschools-”

“Damn it, Jack,” the police chief, Dan, slammed his hand on the desk. “I won’t do that to this town. We’ve got maybe twenty teenagers that fit the profile. We have at least a thousand men within city limits who do. I will not go off of speculations and guessing, and I won’t have some FBI from out of town go into the schools and start terrorizing the kids-”

Jack threw his hands up in exasperation. Hannibal had to be amused, watching the same little dance repeat itself today as it had yesterday and the day before.

“Send Will in! He was raised just up the goddamn road, Dan, he can talk to these kids without scaring them. He doesn’t even need that much to go off of-”

“Speculations and guessing, Jack. Not good enough for me.” Dan sat down, the non-verbal end to this dance, and Jack predictably stormed back outside on the dock to wait for the boats. Hannibal trailed after him, Jimmy and Beverly close behind. Brian had been voted to join boat duty today.

None of them were eager to see another body destroyed by Louisianan Mother Nature: heat, water, and alligators.

The tell-tale rumble of boat motors approached from the tree-line and Hannibal felt a twinge of anticipation in his gut. Being exposed to Will… discomfited him. He was aware that Freddie lived. He wasn’t sure what it meant. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

This was a recent development in their game, Will’s betrayal. Or rather, Hannibal’s discovery of it. They had danced around one another all week, finding it strange to be surrounded by associates now more than ever. Their dance had become much too private, too intimate to survive publicity. They hadn’t even been alone since their arrival.

The boats appeared from under the hanging of moss and rumbled up to the police station dock slowly. Will was preoccupied with one of the officers, both of them staring intently at a tablet, Will pointed at something and the officer nodded in agreement.

Then the officer murmured something too low for Hannibal to hear and he was shocked to see the graceful arch of Will’s throat thrown back as he _laughed,_ a carefree sound with his eyes scrunched closed, looking more golden than the sun that shone over his exposed neck and smile.

Hannibal felt his mouth go dry at the sight, and held his jealousy back long enough to etch every single detail clearly into his memory to be drawn later.

Then he allowed himself a little jealousy, enough to read the officer’s name plate as the boats docked. J. Stanley. He would remember that for later too.

In spite of himself, he moved down to offer Will an outstretched hand as he made to hop off the second boat, momentarily forgetting his state of attire.

Will took it blindly, not looking up as he took Hannibal’s hand and pulled himself up onto the dock.

“You know, I’m pretty used to boats, Dr. Lecter. You don’t have to-”

Will’s gaze travelled up to Hannibal’s face as he straightened beside him.

“Ah, help me. You don’t have to help me.” He finished lamely, eyes stuck somewhere on Hannibal’s mussed hair that clung to his forehead in the heat.

Hannibal’s head cocked ever so slightly at Will’s reaction. It seemed he was more uncomfortable with Hannibal’s state than Hannibal himself. Interesting.

“Nonsense, in this heat anyone is prone to grow light headed. We wouldn’t want to lose you to the alligators if you slipped, Will.” Hannibal’s smile was sharp and just for him as he gestured at the murky water under them.

Will nodded, eyes finally drifting to meet Hannibal’s.

“The heat… right.”

Will, on the other hand, fit right in. A short sleeved button up, khakis, and huge rubber boots over those for wading if necessary. His skin glistened and darkened in the sun. His curls were a mess of fluff in the humidity. He had looked the same all week and Hannibal would never grow tired of seeing him in his natural element. He was absolutely exquisite.

Hannibal had filled almost an entire sketchbook while they had been here and he was sure he would finish it before they left. If he were to be left with only memories of Will, at least he would have vivid reminders.

Jack was side-eyeing them from the open doorway to the station as the officers all went inside, grumbling to Dan about their lack of success. Hannibal took Jack’s scrutiny as their cue to join everyone else.

Hannibal may have let his hand linger a bit longer, a bit lower on Will’s back, than he usually would as they passed the other man.

The force of Jack’s glare made Hannibal’s lips twitch in the smallest of smirks.

Remembering the sharp scent of a very alive Freddie Lounds on Will made it fall as quickly as it appeared.

The noose of the game was tightening slowly around all their throats. Hannibal had a lingering suspicion that Will held the end of the rope: ready to snap all their necks if need be.

For once, Hannibal was grateful for this pathetic killer they were chasing. Will hadn’t struggled with the case at all, and he couldn’t afford the other man getting lost in anyone else’s head right now.

Hannibal barely had a grasp on what was going on in Will’s own.

-

It was overhearing Beverly, Brian and Jimmy make plans for drinks that evening that spurred Hannibal into desperate measures.

“Would you care to accompany me to dinner tonight?” He implored Will before the others could invite him along.

They hadn’t had a moment to themselves all week, and Hannibal was eager to get him away from the presence of everyone else. This was Will’s element, his natural habitat, and Hannibal would be damned if he didn’t get the man alone to explore all the possibilities Louisiana held. Childhood memories, trauma from his time as an officer… perhaps there was a restaurant where Will had been a regular customer that he would be willing to return to.

To his utter surprise, Will turned him down.

“Actually, I can’t, sorry,” the other man told him as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I have plans.”

Hannibal couldn’t even be that disappointed, fascinated by the flush spreading quickly across Will’s face. What was he up to?

“I see, and would I be correct in assuming these plans are better done alone?”

Will threw him a grateful smile, a genuine one that chased away any lingering disappointment.

“You would be correct.”

Hm. Hannibal pondered that as they packed up for the day, as he watched Will turn Beverly’s invitation down as well.

When the team arrived back at the hotel Hannibal watched Will disappear into his room down the hall. Hannibal figured he had about two hours while Will showered and waited for the rest of the team to disappear so he could head out unnoticed.

Hannibal was ready within the hour, his rental car parked inconspicuously down the street from the hotel. He had the perfect view of the lobby doors when Will strolled out, found a cab, and headed not toward New Orleans as Hannibal had expected, but back out toward the bayou.

Hannibal felt confident as he pulled out a few cars behind the cab, unaware that the night held bigger surprises in store for him yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Will up to? Maybe you'll find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this update! We've got a ways to go yet, and this is where it finally starts to get interesting... Thanks again for reading, and for any kudos or comments. :) I adore each and every one of you!

Will felt… good.

There was something about being in Louisiana that made his chest crack open and ache, like coming home. The air was heavy and muggy and smelled like open water. He had forgotten what it was like to be here, where the sun strips you bare.

Back in Virginia he layered his clothes against the cold, covered himself, hid himself.

So did Hannibal.

Here that wasn’t an option.

Here Will was comfortable, he was in his element, hell, he even felt like he belonged. Hannibal’s eyes had followed him all week, distanced but sharp, fascinated, _enamored._

Will shivered at the thought.

The other man was not in his element. Forced to peel back the tailored layers of his person suit and expose himself, glistening and warm, to the most dangerous threat to his freedom: Will. He knew it made Hannibal uncomfortable. He could see it in the way the man held himself more tensely than usual. The way his gaze dared anyone to call him out on it.

And god, if it wasn’t wonderful to see.

Will had felt a dark satisfaction brewing somewhere in the pit of him all week. It was the same beast that fed on his nightmares, waking and sleeping, the same one that grinned at the thought of wrapping his hands around Hannibal’s throat and _squeezing._

Today it had purred at the sight of Hannibal, standing on the dock in his ridiculous slacks and unbuttoned shirt. It was almost obscene, the way his exposed neck dampened his collar with sweat.

Will set his teeth against the memory as the cab drove away from the city. Tonight wasn’t about Hannibal. Tonight was _his,_ this was his homecoming.

Will rolled his window down to breathe in the damp breeze as they left behind buildings and lights and drove into the depths of the bayou. The sun wasn’t yet set but the dense trees hung with moss blocked out the rest of the light and the cab was submerged in darkness.

“How long did you say it’s been since you visited?” The cab driver asked, peering at Will in the rearview mirror curiously.

Will sighed and laid his head on the door, curls blowing wildly out of the open window.

“Twelve years,” he replied, but his words were lost to the wind.

-

The bar was exactly as he remembered it.

A run down building nestled in the trees, the wrap-around porch housed a few mismatched rocking chairs and some plastic lawn furniture. Pick-up trucks and rusted cars sat haphazard in the bare gravel someone had thrown around to make parking easier.

Will spotted Charlene’s truck immediately, a gorgeous old ’69 Chevy in sky blue. He grinned when the cab pulled up beside it. He’d always wanted that truck.

“Thanks for the ride, I know it’s a little far out,” he told the driver as he handed over a few twenties. The other man just shrugged and took the extra money happily.

“Don’t mind the drive, I can stick around and have a beer if you’ll be needing a ride back?”

Will just shook his head and waved him off as he got out and admired Charlene’s truck. He would figure out his way back later. If nothing else he could call Jack, wake him up like he’d been rudely woken so many times before.

 _Or Hannibal…_ his brain supplied, but he shut that thought down before it could take off.

Sounds of music and loud laughter floated down from the bar; the screen door was closed to keep out bugs but the other door was wide open. Will made his way up the rickety wooden stairs and stood for a moment.

Suspended between the outside world and the strange familiarity of the inside.

Through the screen he could see people packed around tables and lined up along the bar. The small stage at the back featured an empty piano and a solitary figure plucking furiously at a banjo.

He saw a flash of bright orange hair behind the bar and grinned. That was his cue.

The sound of the door swinging open had every head turning to see who it was. For one long moment it was silent, and Will strode in like he had so many times before, hesitantly now.

“That’s Will Graham!” Someone cried.

And suddenly it was a madhouse.

Will’s hands were being vigorously shook and his back and shoulders were covered in patting hands. So many familiar faces, aged now, and unfamiliar younger ones that were no doubt the children of previous patrons.

“Graham, it’s really you ain’t it?”

“How long’s it been?”

“We’ve missed you, son.”

Will found himself smiling, and for once he didn’t mind the attention. Here he was simply Will Graham – not a man with an empathy disorder, not a special agent, not a murderer. Just Will.

Then Charlene’s voluminous orange up-do parted the crowd and they were face to face.

“Oh, Willy,” she sighed, her eyes and soft smile creased with deep wrinkles now. “It’s been so long since I saw that pretty face.”

She was a whole foot and a half smaller than him but when she gathered him up in her little arms he felt like a child again. The crowd around them shuffled back to their places and struck up conversations like they’d never stopped, giving the two a moment alone.

“Charlene,” he murmured into her hairspray-stiff hair. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

She pulled back and looked him over again. “Now, don’t you go apologizing to me. I’ve got a computer at home now, Willy. I keep up with you, I know you’re up to big things.”

Her brown eyes were knowing as they searched his face, reminding him too much of another pair.

Charlene had been the closest thing to a mother figure he’d ever had. She married her husband, the original owner, well before Will was even born. By the time he was old enough to discover this place her husband had passed but she kept it up for the loyal customers who came every Friday night like it was church service.

“That’s no excuse,” he told her, “I should… come visit more often.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “It would be good for me.”

She patted his arm and led him over to the bar where his usual old stool on the end was suddenly empty. “I’ve got email now, Willy. We can keep in touch, okay?”

She grabbed a glass and shuffled around in the fridge under the bar.

“I’d like to hear from you. Don’t need to talk about all that police mess, just like to know that you’re doing alright.”

Will chuckled at that, and accepted the beer she handed him gladly.

“Yeah, that sounds fine to me.”

The glass she gave him was smudged with dust and other fingerprints, the beer not quite cold enough and dirt cheap. He took a grateful swig, and had to bite back a grimace as his mouth revolted. Too accustomed to fine crystal and rich wines now.

He drank the rest in a few long swallows, refusing to let Hannibal ruin this night for him. Charlene raised one finely plucked eyebrow but said nothing. That was what he’d always loved about her and this place. No one asked too many questions.

“You alone up there, Willy?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but Will knew she cared.

Charlene had always worried about him being lonely after his dad passed, had even offered to give the bar to him to fix up and run himself. Too often, even years later, he regretted telling her no.

What would his life be like now, if he had said yes? Opening the bar every weekday from five to midnight, eating dinner with Charlene on Sundays, probably married to a nice local guy or girl by now. Maybe a kid or two… Abigail’s face appeared all too vividly in his mind and he shut down that train of thought.

That life had never been meant for him.

“I’ve got seven dogs, now,” Will answered, avoiding the real question.

Charlene gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was doing, but she didn’t push him. “That’s five more than you left with, sugar. Seems Virginia is treating you alright then.”

He laughed outright at that and Charlene laughed with him. She knew more than most what Will had been through here with the police force, and if she had been keeping tabs on him through the internet he assumed she knew some not-so-pretty details about his life now too. 

She reached across the bar and placed a gentle hand on his where it wrapped around his empty glass.

“Listen, Willy. I’m glad you’re okay, and we’re all glad you’re here. I love you, kid, and think the world of ya. Always have, always will.”

Will felt his throat tighten and he cleared it, blinking down at the dirty bartop.

“Ah- thanks. Thanks, Charlene. I’ve missed this place.”

She refilled his glass with another beer and gave him a dangerous grin. He knew what was coming and started to shake his head before the words had even left her mouth.

“Now, are you here to leave us hanging all night or are you goin’ to get up there and sing?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is surprised. Hannibal is turned on. Will's secret is revealed, and maybe a few others along with it...

Hannibal waited for the cab to pull away before he left the cover of the forest. He’d parked the rental down on the side of the main road and trekked through the trees until he saw the run-down building Will had led him to.

He watched Will admire an old blue pick-up truck for a moment. The way he studied it was fond, almost familiar. Perhaps Hannibal would be getting a peek into the other man’s life from before after all.

Will made his way up the precarious set of stairs, and Hannibal had a fleeting vision of one collapsing underneath the man, twisting his ankle, decorating his face in a delicious grimace of pain. Hannibal would either stay in the trees and watch him struggle or come to the rescue - both tempting ideas.

Alas, Will made it to the door without a misstep.

Hannibal knew now for certain Will had a history with this place. He stood, unsure, lingering on the outside while peering through the screen inside. One hand rested on the door handle, the other fluttered nervously at his side. Will was lovely to behold in this state of limbo that seemed like a metaphor for his life. One foot on either side of the line, never sure where he truly belonged.

Then he pulled the door open and disappeared from Hannibal’s sight.

Hannibal could hear even from where he stood that the noise inside fell deathly quiet at the man’s entrance. He was, of course, curious to see what was going on inside.

He let Will have the moment to himself. Not out of kindness, but because he knew he wouldn’t be able to slip inside unnoticed yet.

Hannibal waited in the shadows until he heard the sounds of drunken laughter start up again. He crept up the porch from the side, swinging himself over the rail effortlessly.

He sidled up beside the door, peering in with his back against the wall. He counted ten tables spread around, all overcrowded. He spotted Will’s unmistakable curls at the bar, which made the next part easier.

Opening the door as little as he could, Hannibal slipped through and immediately headed for the corner furthest from the bar. The patrons at the tables near him payed him no mind other than raising their drinks in greetings, a few eyeing his clothes skeptically.

Ah, his wardrobe couldn’t be helped.

They seemed to forget about Hannibal quickly as he claimed a stool by the wall. From here he was well covered by both tables and had a view of the bar. A half empty can of beer sat on the floor near him and he picked it up, barely repressing the disgusted curl of his lip.

Hannibal held the drink lightly in one hand, using it for appearances only, and studied the rest of the bar. An elderly man plucked at a banjo on a decent sized stage parallel to the bar, and while it wasn’t an instrument Hannibal was particularly fond of, he admired the obvious skill the man had. A screened backdoor revealed more of the porch on the other side of the building and judging by the haze floating through it, a designated smoking area. It was filthy, falling apart, and full of blue-collar workers.

Of course Will would have come here.

The other man was drinking out of a smudged glass what was, undoubtedly, one of the very same beers Hannibal held. From behind the bar appeared an older woman with a shock of bright orange hair, box-dyed from the look of her dark eyebrows. Hannibal watched as she placed a hand over Will’s and spoke to him.

An unbidden flash of jealousy tore through Hannibal and he bit it back harshly. Will seemed so at ease with her, as at ease as he had once been around him.

In spite of himself, Hannibal knew he would need to introduce himself to her before the night was over. He would integrate himself into every part of Will’s past until a time before _them_ never really existed at all.

It was a double-edged sword, as the rooms from Hannibal’s past in his own memory palace now smelled of fever, dogs, and cheap aftershave. A pair of angry cerulean eyes followed him through every hallway. A head of thick curls appeared in every work of art he hung so carefully on the walls.

Hannibal watched as Will rose from his stool and wandered over toward the stage, followed closely by the ginger-haired woman. For one brief moment, Hannibal actually thought they were going to go outside. Will didn’t smoke of course, it just seemed much more likely than the alternative.

Hannibal was awestruck as he watched the other man leap onto the stage as if he had a hundred times before.

Shock wasn’t an emotion Hannibal Lecter experienced very often. In fact, he could remember each moment of the handful of times he _had_ been shocked. Unsurprisingly, they had all involved Will Graham.

Hannibal watched as the other man shook hands with the banjo player and exchanged a few words. His presence on the stage set off some sort of butterfly effect through the bar, and almost everyone seemed to simultaneously move from their seats to the open floor in front of it.

An excited energy brimmed in the air, an electric charge that Hannibal himself wasn’t immune to. 

This was Will’s secret, then.

Was he going to play the banjo? Or perhaps he would surprise Hannibal even more by sitting at the small upright piano. He had never shown much interest in Hannibal’s harpsichord but obviously this wasn’t a side of him he wanted to share with the older man just yet.

The elderly woman appeared suddenly with a microphone in hand, a couple of younger man trailing behind her with a stand, cords, and a small amplifier.

Hannibal felt his lip curl as one of the men passed another beer to Will, who immediately gulped the entire can down and tossed it to the side. The easy, buzzed smile on Will’s face alighted something dangerously warm in Hannibal’s chest and he smothered the feeling as best he could.

They set up the stage with practiced ease – Will had done this before many times. He knew exactly where to position the amplifier and plugged microphones in front of all the instruments with ease. The light over the stage had his brow glistening with sweat and Hannibal’s mouth felt dry as Will rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt down to his chest.

“If you haven’t seen Graham before, you’ll want a closer seat,” one of the senior men who had stayed seated at the table in front of Hannibal turned to him with a big grin, “You’re not from around here, son. You’ve never seen a kid like this before.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal replied, softening his accent into something almost American. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to just how far “not from around here,” was.

The man just laughed and gave him a look that said he knew something Hannibal didn’t.

For once, he was right.

His attention was pulled back to the stage when the bar lights suddenly dimmed and the stage was thrown into darkness. He could just make out Will’s shadowy figure next to the banjo player.

A single light flipped on above the microphone and the older woman stood there with a grin on her heavily made up face.

“Friends, it’s my absolute pleasure to welcome our very own Will Graham back tonight. I’m not goin’ to wax poetic about him – if you know him, you _know.”_

Hannibal sneered at that. As if _any_ of them knew the real Will Graham.

“And if you don’t know…” the woman continued, her grin growing during the dramatic pause, “You’re about to learn.”

The patrons, the standing crowd and the few sitting, thundered a heavy applause and Hannibal even heard a few obnoxious whistles as the woman left the microphone to slide onto the piano bench.

Will’s silhouette was thrown into light as he took her place. For the very first time in his life, Hannibal’s jaw literally dropped.

Will’s sleeves had been pushed high up on his biceps, revealing tanned, rippling arms. His shirt was tucked into his low-slung jeans at the bottom but unbuttoned so low Hannibal could actually see the man’s navel. His feet were bare.

And the most devious expression Hannibal had ever witnessed on Will’s face was nothing compared to the sultry, _vulgar_ grin the man wore now, revealing flashing white teeth and ridiculously pink lips.

“How’s everyone doin’ tonight?” Will murmured into the microphone, southern accent dripping from every single word, slow and sweet.

He was met with more whistles and enraptured eyes. Hannibal didn’t even spare the other patrons a thought. He was one of them. He was in awe.

“I know it’s been awhile since I sang for y’all,” Will sighed, a dramatic, drawn out thing. The sound of his breath, amplified through the bar, set fire to Hannibal’s nerve endings. He felt a sizzling under his skin.

“But I’ve got somethin’ real special for tonight. If one of y’all would be so kind and pass me another beer, I might just sing for ya.”

Hannibal’s fingers twitched as if he could hand Will a beer from his seat in the corner. As if he could reach out and wrap them around the other man’s throat and feel the vibrations of his accent. Sing? If Hannibal thought he couldn’t possibly be surprised more by this man he was mistaken.

Someone passed a can up to him, and so fast Hannibal almost missed it, Will pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed it easily through the aluminum.

The crowd cheered him on as he shotgunned the beer, and Hannibal could only watch in stunned silence as cheap beer dripped down Will’s chest and left shining trails that disappeared low on his stomach.

His own tongue ran over his bottom lip, an absolutely impulsive motion. Hannibal felt out of control.

The can was tossed to the side just like the one before it. Will’s head stayed slung back for a moment, throat long and lovely as it stretched. Hannibal realized with not much surprise that he was achingly aroused. He shifted on his stool, discomfort and intrigue growing with every passing second.

“Charlene,” Will called to the woman behind the piano. “Remember that one I always refused to sing?”

The orange-haired woman, Charlene, laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Oh I remember, Willy. You always said somethin’ ‘bout not having a damn man to sing it for.”

“You got a man, Graham?” Someone called out, and cat calls erupted around the bar.

Hannibal was stunned. He had nothing to prepare him for this. So many secrets were being spilled forth in this moment that the best he could do was remember them with absolute clarity to be sorted through later. Charlene’s nickname for him, Will’s sexual prowess, his _confidence_ , his… relationship status?

Will was certainly not dating anyone. Hannibal would have smelled it on him. He would never assume Will was talking about _him_ out of pride, but it was the simplest explanation. The only explanation, really. They were surely both aware, to some extent, of the strange, multi-layered tension that drew them together. But Hannibal hadn’t realized just _how_ aware of it Will was until now.

Will chuckled in response, a dark sound that echoed around the chambers of Hannibal’s mind long after it ended. “Oh, if you only fuckin’ knew.”

Charlene cheered at that, and without another word her fingers flew across the keys and started up a strange, upbeat melody. The banjo player joined in after a few beats, and Will stood with one hip slung to the side, his hand wrapped obscenely around the microphone stand.

Then, he opened his mouth and sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW that was a fun chapter to write. Don't you just love Hannibal knocked off his high horse? I had planned to work Will up to all the sexiness and this particular song, but as usual, he had other ideas. I promise the next chapter will feature the song itself, and we'll switch back to Will's point of view, so stay tuned. :) Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I'd shotgun a beer with any of you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I know it's been awhile, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. It was slow-going writing at first, but over the past few days the rest of it just, well, happened. I let Hannibal and Will take the reins with this one, so enjoy the completely different direction they took me in! Completely unbeta-ed and I've only done two complete read-throughs, so tread lightly out there. Typos await.  
> Listen to Jesus and Austria by Cake Bake Betty for the performance, then have Desire by Meg Myers on repeat for the rest. Trust me. As usual, comments and kudos are much appreciated.  
> Wherever you're reading this from in the world, I hope you're doing okay. In the midst of this global crisis it's easy to slip into dark, lonely places. I know I've been struggling, so I just wanted to say stay strong and enjoy the extra time to read fanfiction. <3

Will had never found a headspace as satisfying as the one he existed in while singing – no, while _performing._

The cheap alcohol flooding his system helped, his head abuzz, nerves tingling, limbs loose and languid. He leapt onto the stage with ease and helped Charlene’s only employee, Joe, set up the amp and mics. The other man kept stealing curious glances at Will – the last time they’d met Joe had only been eleven or twelve, now he was in his twenties.

Will ignored the attention. Even a decade or so younger than Will, Joe had grown into a good looking man, and the temptation was there. They just weren’t the eyes Will wanted to feel; they didn’t set his skin alight where they looked.

The banjo player, an ancient men with a huge knotted beard, was also Joe’s grandpa. He didn’t say much- Will had probably heard the man say all of five sentences in his entire life. But when Will asked him to play he nodded enthusiastically. He loved the performance too.

While Joe finished setting up Will sank back into the shadows of the stage and let the pendulum swing.

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

This time it wasn’t anyone else’s mind he was diving into – it was his own.

Will Graham was a man of many faces, most of them not his own, but this one was. The dark thing in him wasn’t only attracted to blood and brutality. It also fed on lust and attention, on the heady feeling of eyes undressing him and devouring him.

In the past it had been any eyes, everyone’s, no one’s, it didn’t matter. This time…

They were undoubtedly Hannibal’s he imagined.

His hands moved almost of their own volition to his shirt and began unbuttoning it. He felt Hannibal’s knife-edged gaze on him like it was real, warmth pooling low in his gut as he felt the fire of it lick across his bared skin. He felt himself grin, satisfied, and pushed any lingering shame away. He could enjoy this, tonight. In the morning he would go back to being the Will Graham he had built his life around.

He opened his own eyes, pushed his sleeves up his arms and strode into the light.

The easy grin stayed as he talked up the crowd, just as easily as he had all those years ago. The audience was just as receptive, whistling and calling out to him.

He let it all roll off of him, hanging on to the imaginary attention of Hannibal he had created.

While he shotgunned another beer he imagined the older man’s tongue following the drops that escaped down his stomach and felt himself growing hard at the thought.

 _Whoa there, Graham_ , he told himself as he took a moment to calm down. _Don’t want to give the crowd that much of a show._

He knew what he wanted to sing, what he had to sing. The locals had this dirty, funky little song usually sang by women about their lovers. Charlene had performed it countless times, and had begged Will to many more. He had always refused – he had no man to sing it for.

Since he had been back here the song had been stuck in his head and he knew the only way to get it out was to perform it, perform it _for_ Hannibal.

He let Charlene know what song he wanted and the crowd erupted. Many of them had quite literally waited years to see him perform this.

“You got a man, Graham?” Someone called up to him, and Will’s grin widened.

They had no clue, absolutely no idea, just what kind of man he had. The single most cunning and cultured man in Baltimore alone. A renowned surgeon, psychiatrist, and scholar. One of the most notorious and wanted serial killers of the century. Will’s closest friend and greatest enemy. He fucking despised him and wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything before in his life. Hannibal Lecter.

“Oh, if you only fuckin’ knew.” He answered in the simplest way he could.

That set them all off again, and in the midst of cheering Charlene and Joe’s grandpa started up the odd melody.

Will’s hand slipped down the mic stand and he cocked his hip, presenting himself to Hannibal’s imaginary gaze.

“Call the neighbors ‘cause it’s half past ten / I’m a fiery gal lookin’ out for my man,”

Will’s southern twang helped him get the tone right: a whiny, teasing lilt. The lyrics flowed without thought, almost innate like he had been born with this song inside him.

He could still feel his own fantasy of Hannibal’s eyes on him and the older man’s phantom-approval was heady.

“A stranger told me I’m his one true love / A night full of fingers, Jesus, and Austria,” And god if it wasn’t a punch to the gut thinking of the first woman who ever sang this song. Her lover from across the world finding his way to this tiny town, to her. Will could feel her alongside him in his head now – her lust was his.

While she sang to the man who had touched her and left her, he sang to the monster who wouldn’t leave, who haunted his every waking and dreaming thought.

The audience was eating it up, rapt attention turned to Will’s glistening skin and purring voice. As the first movement of the song ended the tempo picked up and Charlene caused an uproar of applause when she slung her harmonica holder around her neck while still pounding away at the keys.

Will let his body move along with the desperation of the music, and his tone followed breathlessly as he sang, “Well you can take your teeth / And can I, mister, please?”

The grittiness of the song was rubbing a furious friction with the fantasy in his mind, and he was grateful for the dark dye of his jeans and the low lights of the bar that hopefully disguised his growing erection.

The thought of singing so vulgarly, almost _pornographically,_ to Hannibal was enough to bring him close to the edge.

“Well you can take your teeth, yeah / And can I, mister, please?”

The whine, the neediness of his own voice shocked him. The image of two Hannibals swum in his vision: one pristine and smug at Will’s desire, all smirks and a three-piece suit. The other wrecked, dress-shirt torn open in fury or lust, snarling at Will like an animal.

The strength of Will’s imagination would be enough to bring him to orgasm right there in front of everyone, and he got swept away in the performance, no longer singing to a crowd of old friends and patrons. He sang only to his man, to Hannibal, the duality of him, the chaos and the greatness of him.

“No you don’t, you slug, you slug, you priest / I said, no you don’t,” and here Will’s voice arched up in a filthy cry, “you slug, you slug, you priest, you priest, you priest!”

The energy in the room overflowed, breaking the surface tension, and his performance simmered to a slow burn in his gut.

Charlene’s harmonica turned to a minor key and Will crooned, “You’re contagious and I got no light / You showed me constellations in the grass one night,”

The double-vision of Hannibal in front of him sank back into one clear image: the Hannibal he had seen many times without recognizing, the face of naked adoration.

Will’s last lines trembled with feeling at the apparition. “I just can’t remember your movements / Just sometimes I feel / Like this is all there is.”

Will leapt off of the stage and slipped out onto the back porch as the last chord rang out. The patrons immediately crowded back at the bar to refresh their drinks.

Will lay back against the wall, eyes closed and body tense from head to toe. He heard the door swing open, felt the cold plastic of a water bottle press against his arm, and took it blindly.

He downed the entire bottle before he opened his eyes to see Joe standing beside him, swaying unsurely on timid feet but with a determined glint in his eye.

“Listen,” the younger man began, “I, ah, know you aren’t staying for long. Charlene says y’all will wrap this up in the next week, or even less.”

Will just watched the other man, half amused and half considering fucking him. _No,_ Will thought, _I really shouldn’t._

To give into impulses like that while undoubtedly thinking of Hannibal was a dangerous game, he knew that from experience.

“You did good up there, tonight. Great.” Joe had stepped closer, and Will wasn’t yet uncomfortable despite the wall at his back, but he was surprised by Joe’s presumptuous body language.

“I guess what I’m trying to get at is your man ain’t here. But I am.”

Will finally responded, huffing out an ironic laugh. “He’s closer than you think, Joe.”

Joe drew his shoulders back at that, raising up as if he could tower over Will at four or so inches shorter than him.

“Yeah? Well, where is he then? ‘Cause all I see here is me, and you.” _You_ was emphasized by Joe’s hand snatching forward to hook a finger through Will’s belt loop.

Will raised both of his eyebrows at that and wrapped fingers around Joe’s wrist, gently tugging his hand away.

“Here’s the thing-”

“Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice cut Will’s off, colder than the night air.

Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from the performance, or genuine surprise, or a dark satisfaction at openly rejecting Joe. Whatever it was, when Will saw Hannibal - the real one - emerge from the shadows, cutting terrifying eyes at the young man, he reacted without thought.

“Hannibal,” Will all but gasped, stepping once away from the wall and Joe’s grasp and toward the older man.

Hannibal’s eyes met his own and revealed no expression. Will realized he had caught him off guard. Hell, Will had caught himself off guard. When was the last time he had even called the other man by his first name?

Joe glanced between them and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“Just a reunion between old friends,” he said, not kindly, looking a bit ridiculous staring up at Hannibal like he was going to scare him off.

The look Hannibal gave him, one of utter disdain, would have chilled Will to the bone on most days. As it happened, with fire already licking up and down Will’s spine at the sight of the other man, that look only served to stoke him more.

 _Fuck,_ Will’s mind was racing, his body an aching mess, _Did he_ see _me?_

Where had Hannibal come from? Inside, no doubt, opening the door miraculously silent to creep up on them.

It was so… ridiculously, predictably Hannibal. Why hadn’t Will anticipated the sheer audacity of the other man? To follow him out here, to violate his past and his present simultaneously.

Will was so angry his teeth ached from the tight clench of his jaw. He had told himself not to let Hannibal ruin this night, but this night had already been about the older man. This wasn’t a reunion, this was using the privacy of his past to deal with the present problem of Hannibal. And, as it turned out, that problem was a hell of a lot more sexual than he had anticipated.

Hannibal hadn’t deemed Joe’s comment worthy of reply. Instead, he looked to Will, and did the most interesting thing.

“Will?” He asked, eyes glinting and unreadable in the low light, and extended a hand as if beckoning, as if offering.

Will glanced down at Hannibal’s outstretched hand and back up to his face in quick succession. He licked his lips, unthinking.

“Who is this, Will? Your- Some FBI jackass, I’d guess.” Joe had the stupidity to step _closer_ to Will as if there were any chance of Will going home with him now. Joe couldn’t be stupid enough to not know by now Hannibal was Will’s muse for tonight’s performance.

 _He just doesn’t see,_ Will realized, _he doesn’t see the beast he is in the presence of._

And for one utterly still moment, the beast wasn’t just Hannibal. It was both of them, it was the thing they share that scared Will more than anything else. It was _potential;_ what they could do between the two of them.

The havoc they could wreak.

Hannibal must have seen it in his eyes because he growled, _growled,_ and ignored Joe once again. “Will.” It was not a question this time.

Will reached out a steadier hand than he felt, sliding his fingers along Hannibal’s, slowly bringing them palm to palm. Then further, his fingers slipping up Hannibal’s sleeve over the silk skin of his wrist.

The raised scar marring the smooth expanse of it.

Will didn’t spare a glance in Joe’s direction, just moved toward Hannibal and said, “You should probably go now, Joe. Charlene will be busy.”

Will felt off balance for one moment as he stepped into the darkness with Hannibal, then gained confidence as he stopped following and started _pushing,_ one hand gripping Hannibal’s light blazer, Hannibal allowing himself to be guided backward.

As they descended the stairs and backed toward the parked cars Joe muttered out some half-hearted curses and slammed the door on his way back inside.

Charlene’s Chevy glowed pearlescent in the moonlight and Will grinned.

He’d always loved that truck.

Hannibal had only a moment to smirk back at Will’s bared teeth before he was shoved up against the passenger side door of the truck, Will’s smile turning into a snarl.

He didn’t hesitate to press the shaking line of his body against Hannibal’s, one thigh shoved between the older man’s, hands balled in his shirt and pressing him uncomfortably into the cut of the window trim.

“So you followed me out here, huh?” Will hissed, mere inches away from Hannibal’s mouth, “You decided to take just one more fucking thing from me and poison it with _you.”_

An unforgiving shove into the metal and glass behind him caused Hannibal’s lip to curl. Will sneered at the show of his teeth.

“Did you watch me?” And _fuck,_ if his voice didn’t come out sounding more like a purr than anything.

Hannibal’s hair had fallen over his eyes in that infuriatingly tantalizing way, and his gaze shone out ruby from between strands of silver-blonde, hooded and entirely focused on Will.

Hannibal licked his lips then, a slow movement that may have been entirely impulsive, genuine. Will realized he couldn’t tell and it terrified him.

“Yes,” Hannibal murmured, voice husky.

There was no mistaking the hard line of him pressed against Will’s leg. There was no mistaking Will’s own cock throbbing against Hannibal’s hip.

As if sharing the same thoughts, and they probably were, Hannibal rocked against him.

Will snarled as Hannibal’s hands came to grasp his wrists, and he ground in a slow circle again.

“ _Hannibal,_ ” Will growled in warning, hands going from fists to splay helplessly against the other man’s broad chest.

“I can’t imagine what you were thinking of, up there,” Hannibal spoke lowly, bending close to Will’s ear. “What has you so tightly wound, Will?”

Before Will could answer, Hannibal’s hands moved in one quick caress from his arms to his hips. Here, they gripped punishingly hard, ten points of perfect pain.

“I would have let you, you know.” Hannibal’s voice was a purr as he jerked Will against him, hard.

Will barely choked back a groan and followed the rhythm of Hannibal’s hips against his. “Let me what?”

Hannibal placed his mouth, open, against the flushed skin of Will’s neck. Will heard a long whine, unbidden, from his own throat as the dangerous edge of the other man’s teeth pressed against the straining muscle there.

“I would have let you fuck me in front of all of them.”

Will’s head spun at the admission, at the sound of something so vulgar from Hannibal’s lips.

“ _Fuck,_ Hannibal, you can’t just…” Will couldn’t keep his eyes off of the plush curve of the other man’s mouth as he pulled back to meet Will’s eyes again. “It can’t be like that between us.”

Hannibal huffed out a low laugh. “It seems as if it already _is_ that way, Will.”

He ground his body down against Will’s thigh with intent, eyes holding Will’s on his own so that Will didn’t miss the way the contact caused a little twitch of pleasure across his face.

Will leaned in unconsciously, chasing after the expression, and before he could stop himself he was kissing Hannibal.

The dry skin on his lips caught the softness of Hannibal’s for one achingly sweet moment, then his tongue was licking past Hannibal’s sharp teeth and into his mouth.

It was slick, the slide of their mouths together, and Will’s hands moved to tangle in the other man’s silken hair to draw him closer. Hannibal responded in kind, and suddenly Will remembered how tight his jeans were when Hannibal’s huge hands were gripping his ass through them, fingers clenched tight on the seams along his inner thighs.

“God-” Will groaned into Hannibal’s mouth, and felt the other man smile, his fingertips pressing in, _closer,_ brushing against Will’s balls.

Will laughed, helpless. “I’m a little drunk, and I’m more than a little fucking pissed at you still, but I think you should take me back to the hotel.”

Will bit under the sharp line of Hannibal’s jaw to emphasize his point, and got rewarded with a surprised groan. He stepped back and let go of the other man, and when Hannibal didn’t immediately leap into action Will raised an eyebrow at him.

“Now, Hannibal.”

He saw the other man’s mouth open to respond, probably to give Will some bullshit about sobriety and waiting. But beneath his simmering lust remained white-hot anger.

“I don’t think you understand, Hannibal. I’m not asking. You’re going to take me back, and I’m going to fuck you. Tonight.”

Hannibal’s eyes flashed in interest and warning. “What if I say no?”

Will chuckled and raised his hand to trace the cut of Hannibal’s perfect cheekbone in a mockery of tenderness. He almost felt guilty when he saw the flinch at the corners of Hannibal’s eyes.

“Then you’re never going to know what it’s like to have me as deeply inside of you as you are in me. Because this will never happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT TELL ME WHAT TOU THINK TELL ME IF YOU HATE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG ❤️❤️❤️


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